


Winter is Past

by lellabeth



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 23:38:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2407088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lellabeth/pseuds/lellabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Steve forgets that the super strength is only in Bucky's muscles, that his broken, busted man isn't strong at all. Bucky's tired of being lost. For once, he just wants to be found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter is Past

**Author's Note:**

> For AngelycDevil's birthday, because I love these boys. Love to Packy for looking it over.

Bucky's hands are all over him.

One calloused and rough, warm against his already overheated skin. The other metal-coated and so cold it makes him shiver, especially when one finger strums his nipple. The sound that comes from Steve sounds just like plucking a broken guitar string – off-key, discordant. Bucky does it again and this time Steve can't hold back the outright whine that comes from the back of his throat.

"So greedy," Bucky whispers in his ear, and God, he is. He should be ashamed of how he's squirming, how he's pressing his aching cock against Bucky's thigh, but how can he be when it feels so good? He's burning all over, desire's flames licking his skin. Bucky's tongue follows the path of that fire, the rasp of his tongue trailing wet across Steve's throat, his neck, down to the top of his chest.

Steve looks down and sees Bucky staring back up at him, and for a second he can't fucking breathe. Years of wanting, decades of pure yearning. He'd wait a thousand years for Bucky, but he's damn glad he didn't have to. Looking down at blue eyes tempered by scorching heat, he almost comes. Bucky doesn't even have to touch him, not really. Just that gentle trail of cool metal down his side, Bucky's eyes locked on his as he kisses Steve's skin, and Steve's a fucking goner.

Bucky tugs at the bottom of Steve's shirt, lifting it over his head, and then he pounces. He bends slightly, puts his face level with Steve's chest, then moves his tongue in long, flat stripes over Steve's nipple. Steve hadn't even thought he'd liked this until Bucky had caught him off-guard and tried it once, and before he knew it, he was leaking pre-come all over the inside of his boxers.

Bucky had always seen things in Steve that he couldn't see in himself.

Like right now, when he knows that Steve is about to crawl out of his own skin with want. So he moves that tongue down, down, down, fingers fumbling with the button on Steve's pants, and Steve is so fucking glad he wasn't wearing the Captain suit today. Bucky is still struggling with the button though, and suddenly he yanks too hard and there's a loud ripping noise, and Steve's in disbelief that Bucky just tore through thick denim like it was tissue paper.

The thick, unruly hair Bucky wears like a halo tickles Steve's hip as Bucky presses his face there, his temple grinding against the divot of muscle. Steve knows him well enough to know he's mortified even before he feels the heat of the man's blush against his skin, and he has to blink his eyes to clear the sudden tears. This doesn't happen often, but it happens enough – times when Bucky's super strength catches him off guard; when he tries to put down a coffee cup and drops it so hard into the table that the wood splinters, when he clutches so tightly Steve can feel the rub of his bones pressing together. And sometimes Steve forgets that that super strength is only in Bucky's muscles, that his broken, busted man isn't strong at all. That Bucky's heart is a gaping, bleeding thing, full of vulnerability and the hot sting of shame, more torn than the zipper of Steve's favorite jeans.

"Sorry," Bucky whispers, his shaky tone like acid charring Steve's skin.

"Just jeans, Buck," Steve replies, but it's strangled.

"I'll get you more." Bucky presses deeper into Steve's thigh, like he can hide there, and Steve's never wanted anything so badly as he wants to be Bucky's safe place.

"The manufacturing just ain't what it used to be," Steve jokes, hating that it falls flat.

Bucky stands, head still facing the floor, looking like his heart and hopes are still somewhere by Steve's knees. Then he hunches his shoulders and makes himself small, hiding.

From Steve.

It feels wrong to ever see Bucky so self-conscious. Steve remembers him young and cocky and full of arrogance, smooth-talking girls and never second guessing himself.

Brave, fearless.

Unattainable.

And he looks at the man before him now, the mishmash of metal and flesh, the contrast between silver and skin, and his tears are unstoppable now. They remind him of the open-mouthed kisses Bucky gives him last thing at night, when he tells Steve he wants to sleep with the taste of Steve's skin on his tongue.

He knows that even though this Bucky is different, that maybe he'll never be the confident man he once was, he's also infinitely, luminously better.

Because now, he's Steve's.

That's a balm that soothes all Steve's sore spots, even the ones he didn't know he had. It's a spike of courage, enough to make him reach forward.

His hand wraps around Bucky's.

The metal one.

There are no nerve endings in that hand, but for a second, Bucky swears he can feel the whole world through his fingertips, each burning point of contact of Steve touching him.

Accepting him.

Loving him.

His worst, ugliest, darkest parts, and Steve just holds them in his warm palm, and his eyes tell Bucky that one day things will all be okay.

And that hand, that stroke of Steve's thumb across the joints in the metal plates covering Bucky's arm, and Bucky believes him.

"You're the best gift I ever got, Cap," Bucky says, and he definitely feels the convulsion of Steve's fingers around his own.

"Don't call me Cap."

The tight knot of panic pressing into Bucky's ribcage loosens at the sound of that teasing edge to Steve's voice. "Oh, everyone in the whole entire world gets to call my man Cap, and I can't?"

"You aren't everyone, Buck."

"You think?" Bucky asks sardonically, flexing foreign fingers against Steve's.

"You're more than that."

Bucky tilts his head. "More than… everyone?"

"Yes. No. Goddammit," Steve says, and Bucky doesn't know if he's more shocked by the curse or the pink tinge working its way across Steve's cheeks.

"Look, you're not everyone, okay? You're… someone. My someone. And I don't care one bit about the whole entire world or what they call me, because you're the only world I need. This is the only world I need. Not SHIELD or the media or who everyone wants me to be. Not the things people say about you and us. None of it. I just need you, Bucky, just you holding my hand like you'll never let it go. And I know you think that's not enough, which is just… just so damn ridiculous, because how can you not see that's everything to me? I've been in love with you my whole life. Blinded by it, even. Even when my life should have ended, even when everyone I'd ever known was dead and gone… there was still you."

Bucky swallows, his hand grasping Steve's. "I'm with you until the end of the line."

"Yeah, Buck," Steve says quietly, resting his forehead on Bucky's. "And some days, that's the only thing that keeps me sane. I don't understand that world outside these four walls, but I know you. I know your heart. And I love it. All of it."

Bucky's a mess of lips and teeth and tongue as he kisses Steve, forcefully, fiercely, unrestrained like he's never been. And Steve, perfect, beautiful Steve, he just kisses him right on back.

"Cap?" Bucky asks, Steve's lips still merged together with his.

"Mmm?"

"I fucking love you."

Steve laughs, breathless and close and glowing, and Bucky's entranced. "How about you love fucking me, instead?"

Bucky had always been the faster runner on their block, the kid who was picked to steal from the baker because he was the one guaranteed to get away. The training that twisted him from man to the Winter Soldier only made him impossibly faster, and so it's only twenty seconds after Steve's words that they're both fully naked.

Their cocks brush as Steve takes Bucky's mouth in a kiss that sears, cold metal meeting warm skin as their bodies press together. Steve grabs Bucky's hand – the bionic one – and snakes it between them, wordlessly telling Bucky to go back to teasing his nipple.

Bucky never could deny Steve anything.

He works both sides of Steve's chest until the pre-come dribbling out of Steve's cock is making a mess of them both, and then he drops to his knees and laps up all that want, all that fierce desire he can't believe is for him. It's bitter on his tongue, but he's never tasted anything sweeter.

Steve's cock is unusually big – it always has been, even when they were teens sharing baths to keep the water bills down, but the serum had effects all over Steve's body. The length isn't freakishly big, maybe seven inches when hard – which he usually is, when Bucky's around – but the thickness is what makes Bucky's jaw ache. The thick head reaches the back of his throat and he relaxes, swallowing around the sensitive crown. Steve's legs shake and he's back to making that whine, his hand knotting in Bucky's hair.

Bucky doesn't tease, just sucks Steve hard and deep, running his tongue across the ridge in the head and down the veins in the length. He lets Steve's shy hand guide him, bobbing faster, uncaring when spit drips out the side of his mouth and down his chin. He's too busy tasting, loving, eating Steve alive, and looking up at the beautiful, straining man above him. Steve's eyes are screwed shut, his mouth open, his face scrunched. Bucky loves that only he sees Steve this way – the man behind the hero, the soft behind the shield.

So he works his mouth harder over Steve's cock, because he never wants this man to doubt he's wanted. He lets the edge of his teeth just brush the slit in the head of Steve's cock, and he's rewarded by Steve's knees almost buckling.

"God, Bucky," Steve says, and Bucky takes him even deeper, swallowing more, sucking in his cheeks and keeping his lips tight. Then Steve is coming down his throat and Bucky slides back, because there's nothing he loves more than the taste of Steve's orgasm in his mouth. Steve comes so long and hard that some of it spills over onto Bucky's lips, dripping onto his jaw, and Steve yanks him up before he can wipe it away.

Steve's tongue is there instead. He laps at Bucky's chin in quick, short strokes, licking up his own cum. It's so filthy, so dirty, so unexpected of his All-American, clean-cut boy, that Bucky's cock jerks against Steve's leg.

Steve drags him over to the bed, falling face-first into it and pulling his legs up underneath him. He's on all fours, his tight ass moving restlessly. They haven't done this much – Steve loves it because it feels incredible but hates it because he's still so endlessly shy, and usually it takes Bucky an hour of convincing just to even get Steve to let him do it. But now he's pressing his head into the comforter, chanting 'please, please, please,' and using his hands to expose himself completely.

Bucky's so hard it hurts. He climbs behind Steve and lays a series of kisses down his man's spine, ending with a long, reverent peck to the base of Steve's back. And then he's telling Steve to open his legs wider and pull his hands further apart, and then his tongue is doing all manner of taboo things in wicked places. He works the ring of muscle, loosening it up. Steve's keeping up a steady stream of groans and grunts, pressing his ass back into Bucky's face. Bucky licks him in long flat swipes, in tantalizing flicks, in teasing circles. When Steve starts begging again, Bucky takes mercy on him and finally, finally slips his tongue inside. It's heaven, the way Steve goes crazy, his body bucking on sheer instinct alone, the way he shouts "ah, ah, Bucky!" like he can't hold it back, and Bucky grabs hold of Steve's hips and keeps him still while he uses his tongue to drive his man crazy.

It takes five solid minutes of pleading before Bucky finally moves to get the lube and slathers it onto his dick, and that's only because he's so turned on he feels he might come across their navy blue comforter. Steve's more than prepped but Bucky's always fearful of hurting him, so he uses his fingers too. The way Steve's big, strong body quivers when Bucky fucks him with his metal fingers makes Bucky feel like the best man alive. His arm may not be good for much, but if it can make the man he loves feel like this, maybe it's not all bad.

The small ridge at the top of his fingertip catches Steve's prostate, and suddenly Bucky has to pull his fingers out and replace them with his cock before Steve comes again. He enters Steve slowly, in small thrusts, unable to hold back words like sweetheart and beautiful, but he's too far gone to be self-conscious anymore. He's too busy focusing on the way Steve's ass fights against his cock, the resistance almost too much before finally it gives, and then he's all the way inside, bottoming out, balls flush against Steve's own.

"Hold on tight, Cap," Bucky says, and he's fairly sure that groan of Steve's isn't one of pleasure. In the next breath though, Bucky's pistoning his hips in and out of Steve so fast there isn't room for any thoughts in his brain, just sheer, white-hot pleasure. He pounds into Steve, so hard the wooden headboard bangs into the wall and plaster dust comes away. He moves slow then fast, then super speed, and he angles his hips so he's brushing that spot that makes Steve melt into a needy puddle.

"Bucky, please!" Steve shouts, and Bucky keeps hitting that spot over and over.

"Goddammit," he says, dropping down to one arm so he can wrap a hand around Steve's cock. Steve's whining again as Bucky's hand jerks him quickly, his grip tight as he owns Steve from the inside out.

"The world doesn't own you," Bucky says, mindless, not sure if he's even really making sound. "I own you, Steve. You're mine."

And he makes him so, worshipping Steve with his hand around his cock and his dick inside that tight ass, and he works both faster until Steve's body locks down tight, a long, throaty groan coming from him as he comes in spurts across their comforter.

It's Bucky's permission to finally let go. He moves in Steve so deeply, they're both forced into the mattress, making a groove so deep it'll never spring back.

He's too far gone to care.

All he feels is Steve, all around him. His balls draw up tight and ecstasy spreads through his veins like wildfire, and he calls out Steve's name in a hoarse cry as he finally comes. His orgasm lasts for what feels like forever, stars whiter than the one on Steve's uniform exploding behind his eyelids. He's boneless, thoughtless, more lost to the world than he ever was inside that freezing tube.

Then there's Steve underneath him, turning over and wrapping all his limbs around Bucky's shaking body, and he remembers he's not lost anymore.

He's found.

He kisses Steve with all the gratitude inside his heart, and Steve kisses him back so gently, he could cry. How Steve can find something to love inside his ruined body is beyond him, but he knows he'll never stop being grateful for it.

"Love you, Buck," Steve whispers, and Bucky has to close his eyes and soak in the moment. Sometimes life blesses you with perfect moments, and Bucky's pretty sure this is one of his.

"Love you, Steve."

They drift into sleep like that, wrapped up in one another, their bodies so tightly entwined they almost become one.

Just before Steve can fall properly asleep, Bucky's whispering his name.

"Yeah?"

"Just so you know, I love fucking you, too," he says, and barely a second goes by before his light snore is filling Steve's ear.

In the darkness of their bedroom, Bucky's body over his, Steve smiles.


End file.
